


Big Damn Hero

by chibi_zoe



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gladiators, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1381810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_zoe/pseuds/chibi_zoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanzo wakes up in a nightmare world where he’s a prisoner with no status, Gojyo is a barbarian who’s happy to share his food for a price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Damn Hero

Standing beside his brother and dressed in a matching blue and white sailor suit, complete with silly hat, Sanzo felt unwanted tears well up in his eyes as their father’s kissed their foreheads by turn and prepared to take their leave. Daddy Ukoku was standing in the shade cast by the school entrance hall and looked exceptionally dashing in his black suit and dark sunglasses with his hair slicked back and gelled in place. Daddy Koumyou on the other hand looked almost swallowed up by his matching black suit, which was looking distinctly rumpled, and his dark shades were currently on top of his head holding his long blond hair out of his eyes.

“We’ll come and get you at the end of the year.” Daddy Koumyou told them gently, kneeling down to capture their gazes in turn and emphasising his sincerity. “It’ll be all right Kouryuu, Kami; you’ll settle in soon and won’t miss us at all. You’ll see.” Sanzo was unsure just who Daddy Koumyou was trying to convince, himself or his sons. “We’ll write to you every Sunday and call whenever we can.” Sanzo highly doubted that Daddy Ukoku wished to be included in that ‘we’, but pointing that fact out to Daddy Koumyou was a sure-fire way to upset him dreadfully, so Sanzo manfully refrained. He could never work out what it was that Daddy Koumyou saw in Daddy Ukoku.

His parents, who were celebrated xenobiologists, were heading off on a scientific exploration mission and apparently it was just too dangerous to take their twin sons with them, so instead Kouryou and Kami were being left at boarding school. Not just any boarding school either but Atlas Academy _the_ most prestigious school in the country and arguably in the whole world. Daddy Ukoku must have attended the school himself, as a child, because there was no way that Daddy Koumyou would have considered it otherwise with its reputation for strictness and conformity, not to mention its standard yearly fees.

“Be good.” Daddy Koumyou said finally, ruffling Sanzo’s hair gently and looking distinctly watery-eyed as he gave Kami one last hug. 

“Study hard,” Daddy Ukoku told them both, thumping Sanzo firmly on the back and not looking at all sad, “otherwise you’ll have to attend summer school and won’t be able to come home.” Sanzo poked his tongue out in childish retaliation before stepping back with his brother to let their parents get into the tiny solar shuttle and slowly set off into the clouds. He sniffed hard as he watched their cloud trail dissipate and tried to tell himself that he was a big boy now, perfectly capable of living away from home like the hundreds of other students in the school. It didn’t really help. Kami’s hand snuck into his own and Sanzo squeezed it gently, finding comfort in his fraternal twin’s presence.

“It’ll be all right.” He said, trying to sound confident and missing by miles. Kami didn’t say anything, but his soft snuffles communicated his feelings all too clearly and Sanzo felt the tears in his eyes well up and spill over his eyelids to run down his cheeks. 

The junior students slept in dormitories, twenty students to a room, each with a high bed over a desk and small cupboard, and it was here that Sanzo fled with his brother, along with many of their room-mates when the sudden realisation that their parents were _gone_ and weren’t coming back really sank in. Despite the critical blow to his pride, he sobbed until his head throbbed and his throat ached knowing that his brother was doing the same thing in the next bed.

“It’s all right son,” a kindly voice said softly as a gentle hand stroked his hair, “it’s all right.” Sanzo sniffled pathetically and sat up. A primly dressed young man was standing beside his bed, smiling softly. He looked too old to be one of the students and yet too young to be one of the teachers. Sanzo didn’t know what to make of him.

“Who’re you?” He asked, frowning at how thick his voice was, still choked up as it was with unshed tears.

“Shuuei,” the man said with a smile, “I’m your dorm monitor Kouryuu and I’m here to help you whenever you need it.” Sanzo blinked at him and then wiped his face with his hand in a futile attempt to scrub away the tears. Help, he didn’t need help, he was the son of Koumyou and Ukoku Sanzo, help was something that he provided to others. He opened his mouth to say something, when the man smiled warmly at him.

“I see you’re feeling better now, I’d best go and let the others know who I am.” Sanzo watched him as the man moved to the next bunk to repeat his comforting with Kami. It was unusual in Sanzo’s very limited experience to find a man who was so perceptive, unless it was Daddy Ukoku who delighted in exploiting weaknesses. 

Wiping his still dripping nose on his sleeve, Sanzo looked around at the other occupants of the dorm, at the boys who would be his roommates for at least this year, and probably in the years to come as well. There was a mixture of species, no doubt orchestrated to promote tolerance, and clearly a mixture of social backgrounds as well. There was quite probably a good mix of sporting and academic interests as well as religious practices, all of them carefully blended by a clerk sitting in some dark little office somewhere, an ideal mix of people _guaranteed_ to provide a well-rounded childhood. 

In the doorway, Sanzo’s eye was caught by a flash of bright red. There was a boy standing in the doorway, a boy of obvious mixed blood with a shock of brilliant blood red hair that clashed horribly with his blue and white uniform. The boy was smirking and pretending to wipe tears away from under his dry eyes. Sanzo glared at him, angry about being taunted, but the boy just grinned unrepentantly and vanished. 

**

Sanzo enjoyed his years at school, the rigidly structured days keeping him calm and centred. He joined the shooting club after school, participated in every leadership course available and took drama lessons because Kami enjoyed it and thought that they should do at least one activity together. Their academic rivalry was fierce and they competed almost manically to best each other in every subject, the school long since acknowledging that they should not be in the same classes to save the teachers’ sanity.

They had continued to share dorm rooms though, from the large halls of the junior dormitories right through to their current seniors’ double room. They even had their own bathroom this year, which was a nice change from the communal showers they’d always used previously.

They still saw their father’s annually, but the frequency of the letters and calls had dropped off the older that they got. Technically, Sanzo supposed, he and Kami were equally to blame for the lack of inter-term communication as they made no effort themselves to keep in contact, but he felt better blaming Daddy Ukoku. Everything that went wrong in Sanzo’s life was usually laid at Daddy Ukoku’s feet whether the man had anything to do with it or not. Kami adored him though, so Sanzo had learned to hold his tongue to keep the peace. 

Pushing thoughts of his irritating and meddling parent from his mind, Sanzo tried to concentrate on his text books. On Saturday he was going to sit the entrance exam for the Intergalactic Police Academy and he was worried that he was going to forget something important. Kami was sitting at the next desk, studying for the same exam with quiet determination written all over his pale face. Sanzo quickly looked back down; there was no need to waste precious minutes with introspective thoughts about his brothers’ appearance, otherwise before he knew it he’d be fantasising about Gojyo yet again and forgetting basic gun safety. 

Just last month the attractive red haired object of Sanzo’s affections had suddenly pushed him up against the wall of the gym with an abrupt ‘pretend that you love me’ and then he’d kissed Sanzo like his life depended on it. A crowd of giggling girls had rounded the corner of the building just as their lips locked looking to have a quiet smoke and had stuttered to a horrified halt. Sanzo’s own cigarette had fallen from his limp fingers as the shock and potential humiliation froze him in place. 

Gojyo’s hand had crept down to cup Sanzo’s ass and squeezed gently and Sanzo’s resulting gasp had allowed Gojyo’s tongue entrance to his mouth, gifting him with the taste of second hand smoke. He’d twined his tongue with the other boys’, enjoying both the taste and the sensation, something that he’d never thought that he’d get the opportunity to try. Then the bell had rung to announce the beginning of class and suddenly Sanzo had been all alone. Alone, aroused and watching a willowy redhead run from him with a carelessly tossed out ‘thanks for that blondie, I owe you one’. 

Sanzo had gone straight to the nearest bathroom and jerked himself off whilst the memory of those lips on his had still been fresh, relishing the feeling of relief. He’d woken up to sticky sheets the following morning too, the result of lascivious dreams involving those lips moving against a very different part of his anatomy. He’d gone to class floating on a cloud, only to fall to earth with a solid thud when an irate girl sucker punched him for ‘stealing her man’. The other students, hovering like vultures, picked up on the man-stealer tag and started repeating it like a broken record. 

He’d done his best to ignore it, but Gojyo hadn’t done him any favours by dumping his current girlfriend and not getting another one immediately. The irritating guy had even had the gall to wink salaciously at Sanzo whenever they passed in the hall. Of course, it didn’t help at all that Sanzo felt his heart flutter and his groin tighten at the action every time. He’d had to jerk off in the bathroom almost every time, biting his hand to keep from moaning as he shot all over his fingers.

This had gone on for days before Sanzo quite abruptly found himself alone behind the gym with Gojyo again. The other boy had offered his lit cigarette as a light for Sanzo’s own, their faces mere inches apart. Sanzo’s breathing had hitched so much he’d almost extinguished his smoke. He sucked in a deep breath to try and calm his racing nerves.

Gojyo exhaled a smoke ring in his face, leaning close to cup his chin in his hand. Their lips had met slowly and smoky breath was exchanged briefly before their tongues clashed. Sanzo was nearly swept away by the sensations, and when Gojyo had stepped forwards to press their bodies so closely together that he could feel the other boys’ erection, his heart had nearly stopped. A light pressure on his shoulder had suggested to him what the next move should be.

Keeping his normally sharp tongue quiet, he’d sunk down to his knees, there was a pretty good likelihood that this would never happen again and Sanzo didn’t want to waste the opportunity, and if it did by chance happen again, he wanted some collateral in the bank ready for negotiation. He’d made quick work of Gojyo’s blue striped uniform pants, sliding them down his hips to puddle on top of his shiny black leather shoes. He’d peeled plain black briefs down just far enough to expose everything – and what a sight it was.

“Mmmm.” He’d hummed unconsciously as he’d taken in the vibrant red pubic hair – who’d have thought that the carpet really matched the drapes? The thick erection rising from the tangled curls was standing almost straight up and it had quivered as Sanzo leant forward to lick up the bead of moisture gathering at the tip. It was sour and salty and addictive. He’d licked a long strip up the length before enveloping the head between his lips. 

Trying to keep his teeth covered by his lips, Sanzo slowly bobbed his head up and down, spreading his saliva evenly along the length and using his hand to keep it steady so that he didn’t choke when Gojyo’s hips moved forwards, possibly of their own accord. He wondered what it felt like to have a tongue winding around his erection, judging by Gojyo’s rumbling groans, it must feel like heaven.

It had been the first blowjob that Sanzo had ever given, and it probably wasn’t the best one that Gojyo had ever received, but it didn’t lack enthusiasm. Sanzo could still remember the feeling of velvet covered steel in his mouth, the way that Gojyo had moaned his appreciation every time he’d sucked hard enough to hollow his cheeks. It hadn’t taken all that long before Gojyo had grasped his hair and ejaculated into his mouth. Sanzo had swallowed some of it, the rest escaping to drip down onto the grass between Sanzo’s knees. 

He’d been so hard that his trousers had felt painfully constrictive. He’d risen to his feet, tilting his head up for a kiss and Gojyo had eagerly obliged. A single dexterous hand had undone his buttons and flies and then that calloused hand had dipped into his own briefs and grabbed hold of him. It had only taken a couple of rough strokes before Sanzo had peaked, his orgasm rising up and swamping him in pleasure. He had slumped against Gojyo, exhausted but already hoping for an encore. 

“Here,” Kami said suddenly causing Sanzo to start guiltily, “It’s from the fruit box Daddy Ukoku had sent for our birthday. It’ll help keep your blood sugar up.” His brother tossed him an apple, its rosy skin the same shade of red as Gojyo’s hair, and the same shade of red as the blush slowly suffusing Sanzo’s cheeks. Kami laughed at him and took a large bite out of his own apple, one streaked heavily with green and guaranteed to be toe curlingly tart, the unmistakable scent made Sanzo’s mouth water though.

“Thanks.” Sanzo said grudgingly as he took a large bite. The sweet juice flooded his mouth and dripped down his chin, unusual for apples in Sanzo’s experience, but he chewed his mouthful and swallowed anyway, wiping the juice from his face with his sleeve. He took another bite, a smaller one this time, and chewed thoughtfully, eating apples was supposed to keep the mind alert, but Sanzo found his eyelids drooping further with each mouthful.

**

Sanzo woke up to a short and very sharp looking sword pointing straight at his face. He blinked in shock.

“Finally!” Exclaimed the dark haired man who was holding the sword tightly in one hand and a short whip loosely in the other, and who looked _very_ familiar for some strange reason. He was wearing a short and blindingly white robe with a black bunny embroidered on the pocket. “I thought that sleeping beauty was going to lie there forever.” There was a general snickering sound that seemed to come from all around them and Sanzo attempted to sit up. His head was woozy and his tongue felt thick, almost like he’d been drugged. 

“Let’s get a proper look at you then.” The man with the sword said and made a gesture that Sanzo interpreted as ‘on your feet you pathetic piece of garbage’. He rose unsteadily to his feet and almost protested at the way his simple robe was unceremoniously ripped from his pale body, the toothy grin on the other man was the only thing that made him hold his tongue; this was a man who enjoyed handing out pain and punishment for the slightest infraction.

Sanzo tried to control the creeping of his flesh as the man’s eyes slowly roamed over his naked body, the occasional clicking of his tongue the only noise he made. He felt like he was being judged and found wanting. It was not a pleasant sensation, although he supposed he should be grateful that man didn’t lever his mouth open and check his teeth.

“Scrawny.” The man pronounced when he had finally looked his fill. “Some stringy muscles there, but nothing notable. Probably pretty enough under all that dirt, but not beautiful.” The sound of a pen madly scratching onto paper filled the air as a scribe that Sanzo hadn’t previously noticed transcribed the man’s words. The scribe was tall and willowy with long blond hair and a somewhat vague expression. He was wearing an identical robe to the man with the sword, complete with bunny embroidery, and Sanzo thought that he should know him from somewhere, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on where from.

“Cell 6, Block B.” The man said finally and Sanzo jerked as two guards stepped forwards and grabbed an arm each. One of them snatched up his filthy robe and tossed it over his head, effectively blinding him, and then they proceeded to push and shove him quite a long way down a winding corridor filled with jeering voices, before the sound of key in a lock could just be heard and then Sanzo was turned and shoved very firmly forwards. He stumbled on something unseen and fell onto a very hard stone floor; a tin cup was then bounced off his head to accompaniment of mocking laughter.

Struggling to right himself and wrap his rope around himself properly again, Sanzo swore and cursed and wished a painful death on everyone. The guards just continued their laughter and offered increasingly ribald suggestions as to what he could do with his curses. Each comment was like a needle in Sanzo’s eye, he wasn’t used to this level of disrespect and it was intolerable – he could feel his blood pressure rising dangerously with every barb exchanged. Eventually he managed to clamp his jaws shut and turn his back on his jailors to survey his situation. 

The small cell he was in was clearly hand carved out of stone, the individual pick marks standing out starkly. Iron bars had been installed along the front of the cell, leaving no dark corners to hide in, and a door with a heavy lock was in the middle, and it was hear that the guards were clustered. There were at least thirty inmates, all male but ranging in size and age from a stocky youth who looked to be barely out of puberty up to a skinny old man who was clearly well past his prime. They were all looking at him, assessing him and trying to guess his skills. Warily he set his feet, but no-one approached him, so he retreated to an empty section of wall - all of the corners were already taken – to try and work out where he was and what was happening.

Despite hours of meditation, Sanzo was none the wiser about his situation. Nothing in his memory added up to his current situation, not even the time of year. It was very strange. At least none of his fellow cellmates had bothered him, not even to ask his name, and they all stuck to their little sections of the cell and interacted with each other as little as possible. All he had to do was keep working on his problem and no doubt the solution would present itself in time.

Three days passed before Sanzo admitted that he had a major problem. Food, such as it was, came in the form of a small bucket of thin gruel and a slightly larger bucket of cleanish water. Serving size was established by the hierarchy of the inmates; a one-eyed man with a deceptively mild disposition was the undisputed king of the cell and always ate first, his red-haired second in command, who looked shockingly familiar for some strange reason, and the stocky youth, who was the leaders especial favourite, generally competed for the second cupful, whilst Sanzo, currently at the bottom of the pecking order despite his best efforts, got barely a mouthful. He was cold, exhausted, hungry and still confused about his situation. 

On the fourth day, he was exceedingly lucky to be using the _facilities_ – basically a hole in the floor about the size of his fist that stank appallingly – when a group of armed guards opened the cell door and rounded up a dozen unfortunates, herded them into the corridor and then chivvied them out of sight. Sanzo had no idea what this meant, aside from the fact that he would probably get more food, and he wondered if it might possibly be his ticket out of this hellhole. 

A dull roaring sound from above roused Sanzo from his fitful musings and he glanced up at the jagged stone ceiling. “It’s the Arena.” The stocky youth commented and Sanzo jumped, startled, it was the first time he’d been addressed since his arrival in the cell. “It’s a fight to the death.” The youth continued conversationally, unknowingly dashing Sanzo’s hope for escape. He was slowly gnawing on a stale heel of bread. Sanzo hadn’t even known that bread was an available option with their gruel. His mouth watered. 

“Your hair’s beautiful.” Sanzo pulled back as the youth reached out a grubby hand to stroke his head. “It’s the same colour as the sun.” Crumbs fell from the youth’s mouth to litter the dirty stone floor and it was a sign of how hungry Sanzo was that he hoped that some of them would be big enough to pick up and eat. “I haven’t seen the sun in years.” With that strange statement, the youth wandered back to the side of the one-eyed man who hunkered down with him and appeared to begin a mathematics lesson.

Sometime later, the regular thudding footsteps of the guards announced their presence and Sanzo looked up with dull curiosity. In the midst of the guards was a dark haired man who was tall, muscular, and liberally streaked with blood and sweat. He had a proud look on his face and was swaggering with every step. Obviously he was the victor of the battle above. He stepped willingly into the empty cell across the hallway, the vast space just for him Servants trailing after the guards scuttled in to lay a thick if somewhat ragged fur pallet on the floor, they placed several wooden bowls close to it and left two buckets of steaming water nearby before scuttling out again. The guards then locked the cell door and marched off, already discussing where they were going to celebrate their winnings.

Sanzo watched, along with his cell mates, as the man slowly washed himself off with the warm water, showing off some impressive musculature, and then settled naked onto the pallet to eat what turned out to be a rich beef stew with actual chunks of meat and vegetables. Sanzo’s stomach rumbled alarmingly at the delicious smells, and he would’ve committed any number of highly immoral acts in order to get a mere spoonful. 

A short time later, a thin woman wearing an oddly clean and well cut fur loincloth and with long dark hair tailing over her large, bare and incredibly perky breasts was towed down the hallway by a very handsy guard and pushed into the cell containing the Arena victor. She landed on her knees in front of the man who laughed. “So eager for me already?” He roughly dragged her over to the fur pallet and she didn’t complain despite the scraping of her knees. Her back was heavily striped with old scars from being whipped and Sanzo wondered if her spirit had been broken along with her skin. The way that she just lay there and let the man have his way with her certainly seemed to suggest it. 

Looking away, Sanzo was astonished to see that most of his cell mates were aroused and rubbing themselves off quite obviously. The one-eyed man was one of the few who had his back to the proceedings, engaged as he was in some sort of intricate game with both the youth and the redhead, who both looked as though there were on the verge of abandoning the intellectual game in favour of more physical pursuits. 

As he watched the trio play their game, using bits of bread as a scoring system of sorts, and listened to the grunting and moaning of the man in the other cell, an idea started to take root in Sanzo’s mind. It wasn’t a good idea, but it would keep his strength up so that he could work out how to get out of this bizarre and inexplicable situation that he found himself in. 

The next morning, when it turned out that the amount of thin gruel supplied had been decreased along with the number of cell occupants, Sanzo immediately put his fledgling plan into action. He hitched his wrinkled and grubby robe up an extra inch so that it barely covered his ass and rearranged its folds to look a little less masculine. Then he deliberately positioned himself in the redhead’s line of sight – he had briefly considered the one-eyed man but dismissed him as far too dangerous.

He did his best to imitate the behaviour of a young woman in the presence of a man she admired, but in all truthfulness it was probably a laughable attempt. He’d never had much interest in observing either the feminine form or their mannerisms beyond what had cropped up in school drama classes. Somehow he didn’t think that the be-corseted heroines that he’d portrayed under protest were much of a role model for his current dilemma.

The redhead noticed his changed behaviour immediately and Sanzo was startled to see that his eyes were as blood red his hair when their gazes locked. His teeth were white and even as he grinned briefly, pocketing a chunk of bread and making sure that Sanzo could see it bulging beneath his clothes, before turning back to his bowl of gruel. Sanzo sat, with bone aching politeness, whilst his fellow lower hierarchy members squabbled and fought over the remaining food. It was a risky gamble, letting them fight it out and hoping that there would still be some food left over, but it did raise the chances of someone else getting injured instead of Sanzo himself.

Finally scooping up his meagre mouthful, Sanzo kept his knees together and ate his portion as slowly as he could. He could feel eyes on him, wondering what he was playing at. Glancing up through his lashes, he was pleased to note that the redhead was still watching him, considering his actions and hopefully drawing the correct conclusions. 

“Can I help you?” The man said with a lascivious grin as Sanzo deliberately moved over to kneel beside him after he’d finished his pathetic breakfast. Sanzo ground his teeth together; the prick clearly knew exactly what he was here for and just as clearly was going to make him work for it.

“I was hoping that we might be able to come to an arrangement.” He said, hoping that his choice of phrasing would keep the coming conversation as clean and emotionless as possible.

“An _arrangement_?” His eyes were dancing with amusement. “Hey Hakkai,” the one-eyed man turned to look over at them, “this man wants to make an _arrangement_ with me.” Sanzo reminded himself about the empty state of his belly and by sheer force of will kept back the words bursting to escape his mouth.

“That’s nice Gojyo.” Said the one-eyed man Hakkai. “But perhaps you shouldn’t tease him quite so much or he might change his mind.” Hakkai’s smile was downright creepy and Sanzo congratulated himself on not choosing him as his target.

“So,” started Gojyo, turning his attention back to Sanzo, “what kind of _arrangement_ would you like to come to blondie?” 

“I was thinking that I could scratch your back if you scratch mine.” He started carefully, trying to make his dirty body look appealing.

“My back’s not itchy.” Gojyo stated with a grin as he very obviously slipped a hand beneath the hem of the robe he was clothed in.

“Well mine is.” Sanzo stated, hoping that it meant what he thought it meant in this context; that he wanted the other man at his back. A piece of the bread that Gojyo had squirreled away at breakfast showed itself briefly as the man’s hand reappeared from beneath his clothing, his robe tenting up slightly even with its absence. 

“Is that so?” The tent grew slightly and Sanzo found his eyes drawn to it, wondering if he could really go through with this. He nodded in agreement, his eyes drawn inevitably back to the bulging pocket of bread. Gojyo followed his gaze and plucked the item out, holding it loosely in his hand.

“In exchange for this?” He said plainly as he proffered the chunk. Sanzo’s mouth watered despite the bread not only being stale but having been stored in the pocket of a robe that probably hadn’t been clean in years. “Well, turn around then.” 

A few feet away Hakkai sighed in exasperation. “Still such a sweet talker Gojyo.” Gojyo gave a coarse laugh in response to this. “He’s no lady Hakkai, and he ain’t your sister either.” 

Sanzo ignored their exchange, his body already moving, his hand took hold of the bread although Gojyo didn’t release it, and he turned mostly around so that Gojyo would have easy access. He felt incredibly exposed, especially with all his cell mates turning to watch his performance. His face flamed as red as Gojyo’s hair. 

“Good boy.” Gojyo said, with a condescending pat to his head. It made Sanzo’s blood boil, but he kept his mouth shut, he needed that piece of bread and if this was the price of it, then he was going to pay it.

A long fingered hand slid down his back, bumping over his knobbly spine and slipping beneath the edge of his robe to fondle his bony ass. Gojyo didn’t expend much energy on foreplay; he merely rubbed his finger over Sanzo’s entrance a few times before pressing in to the first knuckle. It felt **huge**. Sanzo bit his lip. The hand holding the bread moved forwards, allowing Sanzo to better align his body with Gojyo’s whilst still keeping his own hold of his prize. 

He heard Gojyo spit, loudly, into what was probably his palm and then the damp sounds of him applying it liberally to his cock. Sanzo looked down at the dirty floor so that he didn’t have to look at anyone as Gojyo lined himself up and started pushing forwards. It **hurt** a **lot** and Sanzo felt unwanted tears gathering in his eyes as the other man grunted slightly with the effort, one hand gripped firmly onto Sanzo’s hip.

The bread was released into Sanzo’s sole possession when Gojyo needed his second hand to hold Sanzo’s hips back whilst he continued to plough forwards. Unable to help himself, Sanzo took a bite of his prize before lowering his torso to give Gojyo a better angle. It still hurt and his stomach felt full of butterflies but the bread helped. He couldn’t believe that he’d sunk to these depths, allowing himself to be buggered for a bit of bread. But needs must. 

Gojyo didn’t show much consideration for Sanzo’s pleasure, and it meant that he could feel every single inch as it slowly sank into him. Gojyo panted wetly against his neck before starting to withdraw. With the lack of lubrication, Sanzo could feel his skin pulling as the other man started to thrust, little fissions of pain dancing along his nerves in protest. He hugged his bread close to his chest as the thrusts started to get harder and faster, trying not to look up at his other cell mates.

Coming with a loud cry, Gojyo slumped against Sanzo’s back, forcing him closer to the dirty floor. He cradled his bread protectively as the other man withdrew in a rush of slippery fluids, but didn’t move away. Gojyo seemed pleased about this and tugged him upright, then gathered him against his side. Sanzo took the opportunity to quickly eat his bread, his stomach thanking him for it and killing the hunger pangs that he’d been suffering from the time he’d woken up on the floor face to face with a dangerously sharp sword.

Sated, Sanzo had allowed Gojyo to hold him tightly, and he’d accidentally nodded off. When he’d awoken, it was to the sensation of Gojyo jerking him off. The other man was curled over him, his own erection blatantly obvious as he moved his hand rhythmically. Sanzo had sighed with pleasure, spreading his legs to allow Gojyo better access. The consummate gentleman, Gojyo brought Sanzo to orgasm before lining himself up to chase down his own pleasure in Sanzo’s body.

The next few days passed in a veritable orgy of sex, they licked, sucked, jerked and fucked each other until Sanzo could barely move. It wasn’t like there was that much else to do when confined to a small cell with no outside entertainments, and Sanzo had even managed to block out the other inmates watching them as the only interesting thing happening. He was more than pleased with his massive increase in daily sustenance and had started studying escapology. So far it hadn’t yielded any results, but he was hopeful that something would occur to him soon.

Unfortunately the task was taken out of his hands when all the member of their cell were rounded up and ordered out into the corridor and from there down to the Arena. The bright sunlight had stabbed into Sanzo’s eyes like sharpened knives. He’d stumbled and staggered, half blind, until his eyes adjusted. On the sand before them was a variety of weapons – Sanzo had pounced on the crossbow as soon as he’d seen it and Gojyo had picked up a complicated looking weapon that appeared to be the bastard child of a pole arm and a pair of nun-chucks, and twirled it around masterfully.

The crowd had roared as they picked up their weapons and Sanzo had turned to look up at them, curious about these people who cheered at the thought of bloody murder. They looked like normal people, clean and well dressed and obviously excited about the spectacle to come. Sanzo hated them intensely.

Strutting out from the opposite side of the arena, to a fanfare of wild cheers, was a slim blond man who closely resembled Sanzo. He thought that resemblance should be important but he couldn’t remember why. The man was dressed in the same kind of robe as Sanzo, but his was clean and not stained with dirt and dried semen. He had a bastard short sword in one hand and a long bladed dagger in the other. A dozen other men slowly materialised out of the shadows at his back, all looking muscular and strong.

Sanzo raised his crossbow, sighted down the stock and fired. The blond man dodged it easily and Sanzo abruptly realised that there were no replacement bolts for his weapon. He threw it to the ground in disgust and picked up the only weapon remaining, a tiny knife barely bigger than his middle finger. Gojyo snorted at it when he saw it, asking Sanzo sarcastically to slay any rabbits that might be released to terrorise the prisoners. Sanzo told him where to shove it and then Hakkai intervened with a creepy laugh suggesting that they concentrate on their _enemies_.

The battle was long and drawn out, the two groups circling each other warily, feinting attacks and clashing weapons, the weaker members of both teams getting picked off early. Sanzo was **very** glad that he’d chosen the path that he had, if he’d continued trying to survive on his own, he would not doubt have been one of the first corpses to decorate the sand. 

Sanzo tried to keep to the back of their group, almost unarmed and with very little training in knife play he felt a bit useless. Despite his best efforts however, the blond man on the other team eventually managed to separate and corner him. He could see Gojyo matching blades with the dark haired gladiator who’d had the woman in the cell opposite theirs, and Hakkai and Goku were facing a menacing looking man with dark red hair. Over the entire arean there was a general aura of menace and testosterone, heavily accented with sweat and blood.

Facing off against his opponent, Sanzo held out his paring knife and suffered his adversary’s laughter. All he could really do was dodge the sharp edged attacks and hope that someone would come to his rescue. It grated on his pride that he was the proverbial damsel in distress, but his tiny knife really was no defence against the big blades attempting to eviscerate him.

He tried to direct their movements towards Gojyo’s fight, but the man was leaping around so much that it was hard to keep track of him. Sanzo breath started to rasp in his throat and his ass really hurt. His recent poor diet and unaccustomed exercise were taking their toll. Flagging, he turned at bay, hoping against hope that someone would notice and come to his rescue. 

He managed to hold off the first strike, the sword skating along his arm and drawing a little bit of blood and a lot of pain. The dagger scraped along his ribs, causing him to grunt and stagger. He struck out with his little knife and his opponent easily parried it. This was not going to end well unless he could force the other man to lose control.

“Is that all you’ve got?” He tried. It was pretty lame as far as insults went, but it was very acceptable as an opener.

“Going to stick me with that little toothpick are you?” The blond man taunted, twirling his sword theatrically. Sanzo noticed that he had a black bunny embroidered on his robe and he was wearing a string of red beads around his neck.

“It’s all I need to defeat someone like you.” Sanzo said, waving his little knife so that it caught the light. “A fight like this has to be equal.” The blond surged forwards with his sword extended and Sanzo danced back out of the way, cursing the pain from his injuries.

“Your prince charming not coming to rescue you princess?” His adversary teased as he feinted to the right with the long dagger. 

“I don’t need anyone’s help.” Sanzo said firmly. “Especially not from someone who has to stamp his ownership all over me.” He deliberately let his eyes move to the decoration on the other man’s robe. His opponent roared and charged him. Sanzo retreated he again, his knife ineffectual as a defence. 

“Ukoku is a great man,” he opponent growled as Sanzo easily kept out of his reach, “I wear his mark with pride.”

“Pride comes before a fall.” Sanzo said as he dared a quick slice across his opponent’s left knee. It failed, but satisfaction spread through him like a comforting blanket at making the other man retreat.

“Shut your face sodomite.” His adversary snapped before launching a vicious attack. Sanzo did his best to duck and weave but he picked up a collection of cuts along his arms, ribs and thighs. The amount of blood leaking out of him was making him feel dizzy and he couldn’t imagine how bad he must look. “Pot and kettle.” He managed to gasp out in response and his opponent narrowed his eyes angrily.

A sudden roar from the crowd then caught Sanzo’s attention; he and his adversary both turned and looked up at the same moment to see the dark haired man who’d held Sanzo at sword point and his blond scribe fall beneath the red washed blades of uniformed guards. It appeared as if a coup was taking place amongst the bureaucrats. 

His opponent howled with rage, “ **Ukoku!** ” and starting trying to hack his way across the arena to avenge his benefactor’s murder. Sanzo took the opportunity to run forwards and jam his little knife into his opponent’s back. Unfortunately it didn’t do anything other than make the man madder than he already was. He turned neatly on his heal and lunged for Sanzo.

The sensation of the blade slowly penetrating his sternum was something that Sanzo wished dearly that he couldn’t feel. The sword nicked a rib, possibly two, and moved with horrifying slowness through his body. He felt it pop out of his back, the pain radiating out from the matching wounds. He could feel his heart beating rapidly against the steel in his chest and he sank to one knee in the bloody sand. 

“Sanzo!” He looked up into Gojyo’s horrified face. His barbarian lover was sweaty and blood spattered but clearly wasn’t badly wounded. Not like Sanzo who could feel his life dribbling away with each beat of his stuttering heart. The world went dark around him as he slumped down sideways onto the sand, the sword in his chest preventing him from assuming any other position. The last thing he remembered was the feeling of calloused fingers stroking through his hair.

**

Sanzo opened his eyes and stared up at the white ceiling. He had no idea where he was. A soft beeping in the background didn’t really help, nor did the strange smell that tickled his nose, although it did seem like he should recognise it for some reason.

“Sanzo.” A soft and oddly familiar voice said softly. “Thank God you’re finally awake.” Sanzo turned his head to see an older man, past his prime but still handsome despite the faded red hair liberally sprinkled with white and the deep laugh lines scoring his face. “The awful daytime TV was killing me.” A rough, callused hand enveloped his own and he felt comfort and security flow through him from the contact. A strong smell of apples also emanated from him and Sanzo could see a half-eaten specimen in his other hand.

“I just had the strangest dream.” Sanzo said, his voice rough and rasping from a lifetime of heavy smoking.

“I’m not at all surprised,” Gojyo said with a relieved laugh, “the doctors gave you morphine for the pain and warned me that you’d probably have nightmares.” Sanzo made an enquiring noise. Pain? He didn’t feel like he was in pain. Although, if he’d had morphine, that was probably a good thing.

“You were drugged and shot and the doctors didn’t think you were going to make it.” Gojyo said, squeezing his fingers gently. “I told them that you wouldn’t succumb to something as piddly as a gunshot wound, not unless you could take the other bastard down first.” Sanzo huffed with amusement.

“So he got away then?” Sanzo enquired, wondering why he couldn’t remember the event.

“Yeah he did,” Gojyo sighed, “for now he’s barricaded himself in the morgue with your father’s bodies. I don’t think that he’s really planning on coming back out again.” Sanzo had forgotten about the terrible accident that killed their fathers’ earlier in the week, being reminded of it again sent fresh pain stabbing into his heart. He gasped despite himself and Gojyo squeezed his fingers again. “I miss them too Sanzo.”

“Kami couldn’t cope without them.” He stated, trying for a cold and detached tone but reaching something closer to totally devastated. “We weren’t even that close a family; I had no idea that it was going to affect him so badly.” He could suddenly remember his brother pointing a gun at him, his eyes wild and his clothing disarrayed as he spouted something convoluted about love and family that didn’t make any sense to Sanzo. 

“No he couldn’t.” Gojyo said simply. “I’ve never claimed to understand him, but it’s obvious that his grief has left him a few cans short of a six pack and he’s decided that this is the only way to keep his family together, forever.”

“He wouldn’t have got our whole family; he didn’t try and take you out.” Sanzo said muzzily and then frowned. He wasn’t usually this saccharine with his high school sweetheart and partner of nearly forty years. Their relationship was usually best described as feisty and volatile, not sweet and sappy, and Sanzo preferred it that way.

“I always knew you loved me.” Gojyo grinned and kissed him gently and chastely on the lips. “Hakkai and Goku have the situation under control, so you just keep your tight ass planted right there and watch the next Conan movie with me. We can perve on all those muscles and laugh at the bad acting.” 

“Humpf” Sanzo muttered, Conan the Barbarian, no wonder his dreams had been so strange. Maybe he’d share the strangest bits with his lover and they could re-enact a few particular scenes that were sticking in his mind when he was released from the hospital.


End file.
